Fred Weasley's Wizard Weezies
by magicmumu
Summary: This is a story that lets George move on from his twin's death. No pairing, really, but it mentions some possibilities.


Fred Weasley's Wizard Weezies

by Erin Griffin

Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary: George gets a chance to say goodbye to his brother. No pairing, really. Mentions one but not the subject of the fic.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns these characters.

Warning: Spoils book Seven.

When George Weasley's twin brother died, half of himself died as well. Not only was the twin connection between them severed, but he had also lost his best friend. Fred was the one person he spent all his time with. They were partners in crime, as well as buisness partners. Hell, most of the pranks they've made couldn't be pulled off without him. It was no question that the shop would be no more, as there was no reason to get up and do it everyday if his brother wouldn't be there to laugh at some of the new ideas that George had, or come up with some of his own. Not that there was a lot of difference between them. Alot of the ideas he had were usually spoken by Fred, and they would snigger at the possible dunderheads who would fall for each prank.

George Spello-taped the last box of prank shop items and levitated it over on top of a couple of the other stacks. With his wand, he spelled his name on the side of the box and then stared at it. Slowly returning his wand to his robe pocket where it had always been, he sat down on a chair and put his head in his hands. The task of packing away the better part of his life was finally complete. He needed a reason to keep busy after all of the funerals and wakes he attended, and putting the joke shop away proved to be a task that helped with that. He refused to see anyone, not his family, not his friends, and definately not Harry Potter. It wasn't the boy's fault. He knew that his brother and he would have fought in this war no matter what had happened, and Harry Potter was just a baby, but it angered him that he lived and he was the one Violdemort wanted dead the most. The only person he could ever bring himself to talk to was his mum, as she had faught Bellatrix and got justice for Fred. Still, they didn't talk often, as one look at George set his mum crying again. That was the drawback of being a twin.

"Fred, you stupid git!" he said hotly in the cup of his hand. "I hate you for dying!" He sobbed, not for the first time then.

There was a thumping sound that was heard not long later, and George lifted his head. He sniffed, then wiped his nose on the sleeve of his robes. One of the boxes moved as the thumping came again. Slowly but surely, he stood up, wondering if perhaps a bogart had just taken up residence in one of his boxes. Not uncommon, but it wasn't really likely. He looked over each box, then realized which box it was. It was one of the boxes marked 'Fred's things', and he stood to stare at it, not wanting to touch it. he wondered what this was, one last prank from wherever Fred was? Perhaps a hex that was finally activated after they'd spent so much time trying to get it going when they tested it? Slowly, George used hiw wand to move the box from under the two that were stacked above it. He then opened the box. Immediately, as if set on fire, Fred's wand, made from most of the same materials as George's wand, shot out of the box and clattered to the floor, where it seemed to mist. The mist then formed into Fred Weasley. George took a couple of steps back, his calves hitting the chair he had sat in. This had to have been a prank from his brother, but why would he do it now? Fred wasn't cruel.

But slowly he started to remember the pack he'd made with his brother only nights before Fred died, the pack that promised that they would haunt eachother if one of them were hurt or killed. George had thought that his brother was joking when he forced him to make this pact with him, but maybe there was something that Fred knew that he didn't. Even as George followed his brother's example and did the spell with him, he thought there was going to be a time where Fred would start laughing at him. When he didn't, George got worried, but Fred just shrugged and started talking about another one of their pranks they had been working on and all was forgotten. But had he really done it? Had he really come back as a ghost to haunt him? He wasn't sure how to feel about that. As the full shape of his brother came from the mist, George remained silent, frowing.

"I have no way to prove to you that this is not a prank." the mist started off saying. It didn't move, nor did George, so the figure kept on. "I konw you remember our pact, what we said we'd do if one of us passed on from the war. I had always planned to keep it."

"So you're going to haunt me for the rest of my life?" George asked, his voice cool.

"Well, no. I'm not going to. I just wanted to come by for a bit because I have something to say."

"Well, you sure took your sweet time," George said.

"Is that what's got you twisted, man?" Fred asked.

"If you were keeping our pact, why would it take you two months to get here, huh?"

"I'm sorry mate. The first thing I saw when I died was Moaning Myrtle, and I kinda got caught up in torturing her a bit. There's no real sense of time for me now, and I... sort of lost track of it."

George couldn't help but to crack a smile at this. "You always were obsessed with messing with her. At this rate, you might as well date her." When Fred only made a small face instead of responding, George cried, "Oh lord. You are, aren't you!"

Fred shrugged with a smile as George guffawed for the first time in two months. "Well, who else am I gonna date. I'm dead!" He let out a chuckle. George stopped himself from joining in.

"Yes," George said. He looked away from his brother. In the short minute or two they'd spoken, he remembered that important detail. He was dead, and they were both dramatically changed because of it. "You are."

"Hey, at least they can tell us aprt now."

"That's not even funny," George said.

"I thought it was," Fred retorted without skipping a beat. Fred looked around the room and saw all the boxes lined along the wall. He then frowned at his brother. "What are you doing man?"

George followed his brother's gazes and replied, "Packing up. What else?"

"You're shutting down the shop?"

"What else does packing up imply?" George asked. When Fred didn't respond to that, he continued, "There's no use keeping the shop if you're not going to be here to help me run it."

"Of course I will. I'll be here in spirit."

"Har har," George said dryly. Fred let out a laugh at his own joke.

"You gotta admit, that was dead funny-"

"FRED!" George called.

Fred grinned, then sobered some. "Okay, even I admit its too soon for that, but look mate, you've gotta understand that I died laughing. That's the only way to go. I died laughing, and I had family by my side. I couldn't have asked for a better death than that," Fred said, "I'm at peace with it. You should be too." George went silent, and Fred went on. "Do you realize that now is the best time to have the joke shop open? People need the jokes and the laughter now more than ever. Otherwise the reason for fighting that war would have been lost."

"We had a whole war and everybody died for a few jokes?" George asked, his voice raising slightly in his anger.

"You don't understand. The good guys fought the war because there are good things to keep alive. Love and laughter, mainly. You can keep that going with the shop because people now will be able to appretiate that laughter and fun again. People can appretiate what they had before all the darkness of You Know Who. Besides, you'd make a killing!"

George glared at him for the added joke, but he couldn't hold it for very long. He cracked a smile at that. "I don't know man," he said softly. "How could I do it without you?"

"The same way as before, with a smile on your face as you hand some poor sap a bottle of Belchie Beer."

"You're the only one who will ever know me."

"I know man, but we've gotta move on from this. You've gotta kee the shop open. Do whatever you've gotta do to make it barable for you, but please, please leave it open. People need it now more than ever," he repeated, and George sensed a plea in his words. "You've gotta help people laugh again and have a good time."

George thought on this. "Promise me you'll come 'round every now and then to give me inspiration for new jokes?"

"I wouldn't miss it. I mean, I'm sort of earthbound here."

This made George look at him. "You died a hero, so I don't understand why you're still here."

"I chose to be. I'm not going to leave this earth and move on until every last Weasley has long gone. I am gonna make sure they're always smiling."

"You're gonna be here for quite some time," George observed. "Alright. For you, I'll keep the shop open. And you better come visit."

"And I will pull a prank or two while I do, just for you. Nothing unoriginal like Peeves or nothin', but, you know..."

"Yeah. I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Thank you." he said. "Oh, and dont' be afraid to flirt back." he said.

"Flirt back? With who?"

"Angelina." At this, Fred started to disappate, and Gorge watched him go. Though he had so many questions to ask, he decided not to. Now wasn't really the time for it, nor was he sure he really wanted to know, anyway.

When George looked around next, he was back in the chair, his head just coming up from his hands. He took in a deep breath as the headache he had formed between his eyes. He looked over at the box that the wand had come from in his dream and found it exactly the way i had been when he fell asleep. Then George laughed out loud. He laughed until he cried.

Six months later, George switched the sign from Open to Close with the smallest flick of his wand and watched as the people in his shop cleared out, laughing their heads off and playing with their new pranks. Fred Weasley's Wizard Weezies shop was now in full swing, with a lot of help from Harry, Ginny, and Lee Jordon. Lee had come to work with him in Fred's place, but George knew that eventually, Lee would leave him to go work in radio. His time as River on Potterwatch made him the only voice true supporters of the good side listened to, and there were always owls requesting him to work for one radio station or another. But Lee gave his word that he would stay at the shop and with George until he felt George could do it alone or, in Lee's own words 'I catch you snogging Angelina Johnson in the back.'

George smiled as he watched his last cutomers of the day, a bunch of kids no older than 13, trip over themselves in laughter, using eachother for support. A couple minutes later, Lee finished his work adding up the money and securing it away before he waved off and left as well. George watched him Disapperate, and was left alone. He sat sat down and heard the loudest sound of a horn beneath him. He stood up quickly and saw one of the last items he and Fred had recreated, which was the Muggle prank item the Whoopie cushion. When their father had brought the original back, Fred and George had always been dying to find a way to put a new spin on it, and found it. The improved version was sold as a popular item in the shop, especially by Muggle born wizard children. George knew that he hadn't seen the Whoopie Cushion when he sat down. He knew that Fred had to have done it, as it was the favorite for him. He picked up the half-flattened Whoopie Cushion and it let out the rest of its Arrooooga sound before it was completely flat. George smiled and said, "Thanks brother." George could have swore he heard the laughter that was so familiar to him off in the distance. This only made George's smile widen as he used his wand to turn the lights off and he walked up the stairs to the apartment above the shop.


End file.
